The past month has flown by in a flurry of work and social activity. I do have a tendency to procrastinate a bit, but it seems that everything has gone wrong or plans have changed so that I am overflowing with work in these last weeks. Now that my time here is short, all of a sudden my friends and colleagues want to hang out all the time or want me to teach them English, guitar chords, how to use a computer . . . I guess that’s how life goes.

An African proverb says that “It’s always agreeable to say welcome, and always disagreeable to say goodbye”. I don’t like endings either. It was easy in those rough moments of culture shock to think about wanting to be at home, but when it comes down to bidding farewell to people who will now be half a world away, whom I may never see again, it’s hard. My little brother probably won’t remember me.

I am always surprised by the human capacity for love. In times of stress or culture shock there were definitely people I had a hard time liking or working with. But when it comes down to “adeus”, I still want to bawl. No matter whether I really liked someone, the fact that they were a part of my life during this difficult year is grounds enough for love in my heart.

I’ve lost a lot spiritually this year, but the thing that strikes me most often here in Moz is God’s grace.

Schedules aligned so that I have had to do all my official despedidas early – with friends, at church, in the office. So now I’m in this weird space of having said goodbye in official ways, but I’m still running into most people.

I think it will be a while before I understand what impact this experience will have on my life. It will be a big one for sure – I can tell that I’ve changed a lot. So when you ask me “How was Mozambique?”, I don’t think I’ll be able to respond. It was thrilling. It was a process of continual learning. It was a challenge. It was loneliness. It was a lot of sickness. It was grace. It was learning to adapt to changes. It was life, up close and personal.

I'm going to miss Mozambique.

Written 6/18/08
I don’t like to share. Maybe I missed out on that lesson in preschool. Or maybe it’s something inherent to the individualism of American culture.

Here in Mozambique it’s something that confronts me time and again. Like I’ll buy a hand of bananas, and since I really like bananas, I keep them hidden in my bedroom. But then they get yucky before I can eat them all. Oops. Should have shared.

In Mozambique, you can’t not share. If you have food and other people are around, you should at least offer it to them. I in my greed prefer to keep my food hidden and go hungry rather than share. Poor lifestyle choice, Holly.

The thing is, though it might cost me more money today to bring along food for all, probably tomorrow someone else will provide. Or they might not. But if I have the means, it’s an unwritten requirement. Countless times I've received a free meal or snack by the grace of others.

So here I am, after 10 months of immersion in Mozambique, still struggling with this concept of sharing. I hope I’ve made some progress, because I think it’s probably something Jesus would do. The gifts of hospitality and sharing are a lesson that I hope I will be able to take home from Mozambique.

is clean and white and bright. I am in one of the new wards. Outside is the sound of other buildings under construction. At night it is silent, a strange phenomenon I have rarely experienced here in Moz. There are six of us in a room, lying on our hard hospital beds. Mostly we don’t sit up, unless someone is here to visit us. I am the most active – my roommates ask me to do favors for them since the nurses don’t pass through often.

The doctor is calm and inquisitive. She comes through once daily, in the morning, to ask us what we are feeling, and write it in her books. A little crowd of doctors-in-training follows her around. They ask me lots of questions. The nurses are firm and bossy. They scold if things are scattered all over your bed or spilling out of your nightstand. There is a janitor who seems to be cleaning nonstop. If you get something dirty or leave something on the floor, she will scold.

Three of my roommates vomit frequently but I don’t think they tell the nurses because they are afraid.

I cannot stay awake and I cannot sleep. The lights are off for only a few hours at night. They come through to give us all injections and pills. Then a while later the janitor comes and mops the floor. Maybe we sleep for a few hours. At 5 AM the nurses come in and turn on all the lights and make us get up to take a cold bath. A cafeteria lady comes by at mealtimes with a huge pot and shouts “almoço!” but no one responds. We do not want to eat. My family sends deliveries of food for me to receive at the door, but I do not feel like eating that either.

Visiting hours are 4 to 6 PM. Everyone comes. My host mother and father, my CCM boss, some CCM pastors, the ladies from the CCM women’s group who I don’t even know, my neighbor, my tennis friends. I try to smile and pay attention but mostly I’m feeling nauseous. They all tell me I need to eat a lot to get better. I feel guilty but getting the food to go down is a struggle with every bite.

Malaria is not what I had imagined it to be. I don’t suffer from waves of fever or violent shivering, apart from the moment of my arrival in the hospital. I WOULD get the intestinal version . . .

It is my first time in the hospital EVER, aside from physicals or strep throat tests.

(Now I am at home and feeling much better, gracias a Deus)

[To the tune of Fergie’s Fergalicious]

Listen up ya'll, 'cause this is it
The beat that I'm bangin' is delicious

Brancalicious definition make them boys maluco
They see my pasty skin and gettin’ rich is their pensamento
You can see me, you can't squeeze me.
I ain't easy, I ain't sleazy.
I’m not even out there teasin’
But boys keep askin without reason.

Brancalicious (so delicious)
But I ain't promiscuous.
And if you was suspicious,
All those films are fictitious.
I wear glasses (hotttt)
That ought to put them boys off
But they be lining down the block just to watch what I got

So delicious (it's hot, hot)
So delicious (smellin good, I am not . . .)
So delicious (they wanna taste of what I got)
I'm Brancalicious (p-p-p-p-p-pasty, pasty)

Brancalicious def-,
Brancalicious def-,
Brancalicious def- ["def" is echoing]
Brancalicious definition make them boys maluco.
They always claim they know me,
Comin' to me call me Sista (Hey, Sista),
I'm the M to the Z, U, N, the G, the U,
Any other white girl’s in the same darn zoo.

I'm Brancalicious (so delicious)
My temper’s getting vicious
I be up too darn mad to be working on my fitness
She's my witness (oooh, wee)
I put them pounds on non-stop
But they be lining down the block just to watch what I got

So delicious (it's hot, hot)
So delicious (smellin good, I am not . . .)
So delicious (they wanna taste of what I got)
Brancalicious (hold, hold, hold, hold, hold up, check it out)

Baby, baby, baby,
If you really want me,
Honey get some patience.
Don’t pedir meu numero
In the first 2 minutos
I’m not hasty, hasty
Just cuz my skin is pasty.
I’m not tasty, tasty,
So why are you so crazy?

P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty, P to the A to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty
D to the E, to the L I C I O U S, to the D, to the E, to the, to the, to the, hit it Holly

All the time I turn around brada's gather round
always looking at me up and down looking at my . . .
I just wanna say it now - I ain't trying to round up drama,
little mama I don't wanna take your man.
And I know I'm coming off just a little bit conceited
and I keep on repeating how the boys wanna eat it.
But I'm tryin' to tell, that I can't be treated like clientele
'Cause they say she...

Delicious (so delicious)
But I ain't promiscuous
And if you was suspicious
All those films are fictitious
I wear glasses (hotttt)
That ought to put them boys off
But they be lining down the block just to watch what I got (got, got, got)

My temper’s gettin vicious,
I be too darn mad to be workin on my fitness,
She's my witness (oooh, wee).
I put put them pounds on non-stop,
But they be lining down the block just to watch what I got

So delicious (óla sista . . .)
So delicious (como está?)
So delicious (óla sista . . . )
I'm Brancalicious, p-p-p-p-p pasty, pasty
It's so delicious (óla sista . . .)
So delicious (como está?)
So delicious (óla sista . . . )
I'm Brancalicious, p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p (como está)

P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty. P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty
P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty. P to the A, to the, to the
D to the E, to the L I C I O U S, to the D, to the, E to the, L I C I O U S, to the
D to the E, to the L I C I O U S, to the D, to the E, to the, to the, to the (four, tres, two, uno)

P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty. P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty
P to the A, to the S T E Y - girl, you're pasty. P to the A, to the
D to the E, to the L I C I O U S, to the D, to the E, to the L I C I O U S, to the
D to the E, to the L I C I O U S, to the D, to the E, to the, to the, to the, to the, to the.....

I was looking back through previous posts the other day and noticed that I haven’t written much about the dams recently. Back in January, February, and March, we went through a slow period of work when it was raining frequently and thus we couldn’t get much done in the way of construction. But now that the rains are done we are making great strides.

We finally got the Dzunga dam finished in March and people have been slowly but surely starting to take advantage of the new area marked out for fields on the banks of the river. I was initially discouraged because though the community members had fenced off the overall area under the Food For Work program, weeks passed and only two or three families had taken the initiative to even fence off their own particular parcel. But my impatience proved hasty. There are now at least six or seven fields where people are starting to grow vegetables with the seeds provided by our project! Yesterday I saw sprouts of cabbage, onions, lettuce, and tomatoes. If these first farmers do well with their gardens, others should begin to take advantage of this great resource as time goes on.

The completed dam, with kids taking advantage of the water on a hot day

Field ready to be used, with goat deterrent fencing

A newly planted garden (note the baby banana trees on the left side!)

In March we started construction of the second dam, in the village of Cuchamano, 4 km to the west of Dzunga (this is actually the border town with Zimbabwe). By the beginning of April, excavation was done and they were ready to place cement. While I was on vacation, I left the work in the capable hands of my colleagues Pastor Chovane and Sr. Rui. Upon returning 2 weeks later, the dam was almost done! Although this dam is considerably smaller, the surrounding land still has good potential for agriculture. Now we are just waiting for people to take the initiative on their fields. It may be a while, but hopefully they’ll get it . . .

The last day of construction. These proud workers are placing leftover rocks downstream for erosion protection.

Complete!

Now the third community, Chonguoere, is hard at work getting ready to build their dam. While our staff were occupied with the second dam, they worked ahead to start the fencing.

Digging the trench . . .

So that’s an update on work. I haven’t been out in the field much since December, but I am looking forward to getting out more in the coming months. Now that we know what we’re doing more or less, my presence on site isn’t really necessary, but I think I’ll still go because I get bored here in the office. It’s exciting that the project is finally taking off.